


Wordsworth or Lestrange?

by sunstarunicorn



Series: Magical Flashpoint Side Stories [16]
Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis, Flashpoint (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Merlin (TV)
Genre: Aftermath, Big secret revealed, F/M, Gen, Reaction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-21 04:45:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15549894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunstarunicorn/pseuds/sunstarunicorn
Summary: Kevin James Wordsworth, a Lestrange?  As Team One grapples with the bombshell of Wordy’s magical heritage, they are faced with a choice: do they accept the son of a Death Eater or do they turn their backs on a member of their team?  A Magical Flashpoint Side Story





	1. Proud of Yourselves?

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the Magical Flashpoint Side Story series. It follows the first chapter of "East of the Sun" and the first four chapters come before the rest of that story. The last chapter comes after the end of "East of the Sun".
> 
> Although all original characters belong to me, I do not own _Flashpoint_ , _Harry Potter_ , _Narnia_ , or _Merlin_.

Silence hung in the briefing room to the count of twenty, then Lance stalked to the front of the room and turned to face Team One, Onasi, Roy, and the Unspeakable. He looked at the Unspeakable and said flatly, “I thank you for your aid, sir, but we need to speak privately here.”

The Unspeakable inclined his head, bowing to the teen. “Certainly, Heir Calvin; please inform me if you require my division’s aid in this matter.” At Lance’s return head bob, he swept out.

Sapphire turned to the rest of the room and narrowed. “Are you proud of yourselves?” Lance demanded, his voice low, but no less intense and angry for its volume. “Happy to see a teammate, a _friend_ , dragged off like a _criminal_ when he’d done _nothing_ wrong?” He paused a beat. “ ‘Cause if you are, ‘Lanna and I might as well just forget the whole ‘purebloods living in the tech world’ thing right now. In case you missed it, _we’re_ related to the Lestranges, _too_.”

“Lancelot,” Uncle Greg started, but Lance wasn’t taking _any_ of it.

“Oh, I know why _you_ didn’t say anything, Uncle Greg,” the boy snapped. “You’re _jealous_ , ‘cause all this means Uncle Wordy’s not only _related_ to us, too, but he’s our second cousin.” The brunet head shook. “It doesn’t matter, not a _whit_ , ‘cause Dad picked _you_ , not our grandmother’s kin.” Lance left out one little fact, mostly because he had a nasty suspicion, but he wanted to get the initial rant done with first.

The teenager rounded on Sam next. “So what’s _your_ problem, hmmm? Oh, I know, you’ve heard all the stories, haven’t you? About how the Lestranges tortured the Longbottoms so long they ended up insane? So, what, you gonna tar me and ‘Lanna with that same brush now? Are _we_ Death Eaters, too?” Shame shone in Sam’s eyes and he didn’t meet the angry teen’s gaze; he swallowed hard, but held his silence.

Ed met the teenager’s eyes, but anything he might have said was overridden by the still furious Wild Mage. “And what happened to being Uncle Wordy’s best friend, huh? What, you can keep secrets, but he has to drag his family history out for you to see? Has to spell everything out, just so you’ll keep being his friend?”

“Okay, enough,” Ed cut in. “You made your point. We screwed up, all of us.”

“Oh, I’m just getting warmed up,” Lance hissed, “But there’s one thing I need to do first.” He turned on his heel to Onasi. “Auror Onasi? A word, if you would?”

Confused, but not about to argue with the furious young wizard, Auror Onasi trailed over. Lance’s eyes slipped to his sister and he curled one free hand, mimicking claws. Alanna’s eyes widened and she inclined her head, right before her brother turned back to Auror Onasi. Lance’s left hand slipped behind his back, where his sister could see it and counted down. Alanna moved as soon as he hit ‘one’, snatching a bug off the back of her brother’s hair. The bug struggled, but the girl held it fast. “I think we have an uninvited guest here,” she spat, just as livid as her brother.

Auror Onasi’s eyes narrowed and he drew his wand. “Miss Calvin?” he requested in a formal tone. Alanna held the bug out and Auror Onasi angled his wand at the struggling insect. “ _Animus Revalo_ **(1)**.” A white light enveloped the beetle in Alanna’s grip, then it started to glow red. The Auror’s gaze turned hard. “You have five seconds to transform back or I’ll do it _for_ you,” he growled at the beetle. The beetle, which had curled antennas and markings around those antennas that resembled glasses, just buzzed its wings at Auror Onasi.

Lance held out one hand, his eyes even harder than Auror Onasi’s. “ _Lyftgelác gebindan_ **(2)**.” Air currents visibly wrapped around the beetle, holding it fast in midair, and Alanna let go, stepping back to give the Animagus room. “Last chance,” Lance said, his anger buried under a veil of calm.

The beetle struggled against the magic holding it, but Lance had chosen his spell well; the bug couldn’t budge. Auror Onasi adjusted his aim ever so briefly. “ _Animus Invertio_ **(3)**.” A blue-white pulse flew from his wand and struck the beetle. For a moment, nothing happened; then the beetle _blurred_ and a woman appeared, a good meter off the ground, still trapped by Lance’s restraint spell. Blonde hair was still elegantly curled and coifed, but looked a bit ruffled around the edges, her magenta, green-trimmed robes whipped around her, pushed by the air currents, and her green eyes were wide behind rhinestone studded glasses. “Miss Skeeter,” Auror Onasi drawled, an angry glint in his eyes. “What a _surprise_ …the Queen of British Gossip and Slander herself, an unregistered Animagus. Looking for a few _additional_ tidbits, were we?”

“Let me go,” Skeeter burst out. “You have no right to hold me.”

“First of all, you’ll have to take that up with Heir Calvin,” Auror Onasi retorted, a smirk spreading. “Second of all, I know for a _fact_ , Miss Skeeter, that the only way Lord Malfoy could have found Auror Wordsworth is through his Auror file – which is _sealed_ from the public. I suppose I’ll have to have a word with young Daniels about letting every pretty face that pouts at him into the public records archive.”

Skeeter’s eyes went wide at Auror Onasi’s immediate – and correct – supposition for how she’d managed to get around Auror Division’s security. Auror Onasi’s smirk grew wider. “And thirdly, you’re an _unregistered_ Animagus, Miss Skeeter; that’s a crime both here _and_ in Britain. Now, since you’re a British citizen here under a diplomatic visa, you’re correct that you cannot be held and tried here in Canada, but I imagine there are a number of individuals in Britain who will be most _interested_ in whatever evidence I can offer them.” Onasi made a show of inspecting his fingernails. “I hear Azkaban is quite lovely this time of year.”

“Or you could let me go and I’ll conveniently forget about these two little _brats_ being Animagi as well. Two can play at the unregistered Animagi game, after all, Auror Onasi.”

Lance’s smile was only technically a smile, he looked more like a predator faced with a fresh catch. “Oh, but we are registered,” he informed the captive witch in an airy tone. “Though I doubt you would have realized that from just a casual glance at the Animagus Registry; it _is_ a bit obscure.” The smile became a smirk. “We’ve been registered since we were born, Miss Skeeter. You could almost call it a family _talent_.” With that, the teen waved his hand, dissipating his restraint spell. “She can stay, Auror Onasi…just make sure she can’t hear us.”

Auror Onasi looked gleeful at this pronouncement; Team One only had to look once at Rita Skeeter to know why. Skeeter looked horrified and crushed at the fact that secrets would be discussed _right_ in front of her, but she wouldn’t _hear_ them. “My pleasure, Heir Calvin,” Auror Onasi agreed, hauling Skeeter to one corner of the briefing room and casting several spells to restrain her and keep her from hearing anything.

As Auror Onasi returned, Lance dropped all pretense of calm; rage flashed as he turned on Team One again. The teenager squared off with his uncle, almost spitting each word. “Even _if_ Dad had known about Uncle Wordy back when he first tracked you down, it wouldn’t have made a lick of difference; magic trumps tech when it comes to guardianship. The _only_ way _I_ know of that Dad could keep us out of Lord Malfoy’s clutches was to find someone related to him through his _father’s_ family, _directly_ related: that’s you. Nothing’s changed there; you _aren’t_ going to lose custody of us at this point. So, seriously, drop the instant jealousy…green doesn’t look good on you.”

Without waiting for a response, Lance looked to Alanna, who sighed, understanding his expression. “I don’t like it,” she murmured.

“Me either, sis, but I only know what _you_ told me.”

The redhead considered for several moments. Then her jaw clenched, her hands curling into fists. “Uncle Wordy might be a Lestrange by blood, but the House of Lestrange has _no_ claim on him; not when he was born and not now.”

“Blood is blood,” Auror Onasi pointed out quietly. “It would take an extreme circumstance to override that.”

Violet eyes were cold. “Tell me, Auror Onasi, does rape count as an ‘extreme circumstance’? Or does a rapist have a right to the child they sired if they’re a British pureblood Lord?”

Gasps rang out around the room, though Lou looked grim; he’d apparently already sussed out this part of Wordy’s heritage. “Rape?” Ed croaked. “How? Wordy was born here.”

Mournful, Alanna explained, “His parents vacationed in England…nine months before he was born. He didn’t even know until Claire had that magical inheritance test at Gringotts.” She hugged herself. “The goblins were going to put the Lestrange estate in trust for Claire, as his firstborn, but Silnok was so mad, he brought up the idea of _Uncle Wordy_ taking the Headship.”

“And Blackroot went for it,” Ed filled in, a dawning horror in his eyes at how he’d just treated his best friend…over history that neither man would wish on their worst enemy.

“Not at first, but then I brought up what Bellatrix Lestrange had hidden in her Gringotts vault. Black Arts in a Gringotts vault are a violation of our treaties with the goblins, so Gringotts can decide how it wants to handle the offending family.”

Auror Onasi whistled. “Like giving all rights and privileges of an old British family to the Canadian-born Squib son of the late Lord.”

“Exactly,” Lance agreed somberly. “It’s perfectly legal, but the Wizengamot isn’t likely to see it that way; most purebloods see goblins as lesser, below tech-borns and only slightly above techies. To let the goblins punish one of their ‘own’ families is anathema to the Lords, on _both_ sides, even if it’s legal. The family name change from _Lestrange_ to _Wordsworth_ was also a requirement from Gringotts, as a lesson to all why you don’t violate the treaties.” He pinned the adults with his glare. “You lot need to figure out which side you’re on, but I’m not abandoning him…”

“Me either,” Alanna chipped in.

“What do you got?” Spike asked, interest lighting up his features. “And can I help?”

“I’m in as well,” Auror Onasi growled, “Arresting a Canadian Auror on Canadian soil…they overreached themselves on this one.”

“Yes, they did,” Lance agreed, “And we’re going to use that against them.” Sapphire swept the rest of Team One and the hovering Roy Lane. “You lot in?”

Shame and chagrin marked several faces as their own actions and the likely results of said actions sunk in; they hadn’t supported their friend and teammate in a critical moment and they’d let their own prejudice color their response. It was Ed Lane, rather than Greg Parker, who answered. “What do you need?”

 

[1] Latin Animagus detection spell

[2] Old English for ‘air restrain’ Website used is: http://www.oldenglishtranslator.co.uk/

[3] Latin Animagus reversal spell


	2. Planning the Defense

It was close to midnight, Toronto time, when Wordy was arrested; in light of that and the fact that Team One had been on the move for what felt, to all of them, like three days, the Knights opted to break for a few hours to go home, rest up, and return somewhat refreshed.

Ed was about to call Shelley and break the news, but Greg stopped him, feeling that his own reaction – instant jealousy and resentment – had been much worse than Ed’s stunned, shocked silence. Thus, the team Sergeant took the task of calling Shelley and telling her that her husband had been arrested and hauled to England for trial. Parker chickened out a bit; he didn’t tell her that Team One had stood by and done nothing while Wordy was arrested.

The Sergeant did, however, have to deal with the fact that neither of his _nipotes_ would talk to him unless they had to on the ride home; both were still seething and resentful of his initial reaction to the news. It hurt, but Greg knew that they were, in their own way, getting back at him on their uncle/cousin’s behalf. Nor could he punish them; both were achingly careful to avoid any overt defiance, despite how angry they were. The few hours that Greg had to himself ticked by, shadowed by both the events of the past day and his constable’s situation.

* * * * *

Greg talked Commander Holleran into giving his team a few days off; between the simultaneous hot calls of the day before and the Auror Division’s unofficial second to Parker’s time off request, Commander Holleran granted the time off. Team One vacated the station as soon as their time off was granted, heading to Auror Division headquarters where they met up with Auror Onasi.

“No Roy today?” Ed questioned as Giles led them to a conference room he’d set aside for the group.

“He’s got to work at 12th Division today,” Giles replied. “Madame Locksley got the paperwork set up so that we can split up when we need to, like now. He won’t get in trouble, don’t worry about that, but he’ll probably drag me to the range once this is over; that’s how he gets back at me for paperwork days.”

“Could be worse,” Ed mused. At Giles’ wary look, he added, “He could drag you out to bring down another arms dealer.”

The snickers were half-hearted and died away even as Giles pushed the conference room door open. Inside, Rita Skeeter glowered from the corner Giles had put her in. “We have to figure out what to do with her, I can’t justify keeping her here much longer,” Giles informed Team One, though he looked more specifically at Lance.

“Not a problem, Auror Onasi,” Lance remarked, a vicious grin crossing his face. “Actually, she’s going to end up helping us…especially since she’s probably the one who got Lord Malfoy the evidence he’s using against Uncle Wordy.”

“And how is that going to work?” Ed questioned. “It’s not like we can pretend Wordy’s a wizard…he’d never go for it.”

The teen frowned, considering that. After a few moments, he admitted, “I didn’t think of that.” He sighed quietly. “We have a big problem then, ‘cause you’re right, he’s not going to go for pretending to be a wizard, but the truth is, he’s looking at Azkaban if Lord Malfoy gets his way and tries him for line theft and magical manipulation of the inheritance ritual.”

“Azkaban?” Sam demanded, going pale. “Does Azkaban still have dementors?”

All three magicals shook their heads. “No,” Giles responded. “During the Second War, the dementors abandoned the prison and openly joined Voldemort; after the War, the newly reformed British Ministry of Magic refused to permit them to return to Azkaban. These days the prison is guarded by Aurors, just like any other magical prison, but that doesn’t mean Azkaban has gotten much better.” The Auror swallowed hard. “If he’s convicted of line theft, it’s a life sentence.”

Horrified looks were exchanged; Ed’s eyes hardened. “Then why convince him to take the Headship in the first place?” he demanded harshly.

“Because,” a voice interrupted from the doorway, “ _I_ believed and still believe that Lord Wordsworth has the right to reclaim _some_ of what his sire stole from him.” All eyes turned to the grave figure behind them. Silnok entered the conference room, closing the door behind him. His gaze flicked to Skeeter and he ordered, “Undo the spells that prevent her from hearing us.”

Auror Onasi bowed, drew his wand, and flicked it at the reporter. When Rita realized she could hear and speak again, her voice rose at once. “Release me at once! You have no right to imprison me like this!”

“Silence, witch!” Silnok growled. The goblin stalked right up to her, his sneer growing at her open fear. “Your actions have _directly_ interfered with Gringotts’ Judgment against the House of Lestrange; we _stripped_ their vaults from them in recompense for _their_ violation of the treaties between our kind and yours, gifting those vaults to a wronged member of their family and changing the name of that House in the name of our _vengeance_ and as a warning to _all_ of the consequences for breaking the treaties.” Skeeter whimpered, cringing from the furious goblin. “I am tempted to name you Treaty-Breaker for your actions, letting the full weight of my kind fall upon _you_ and _your_ House. Should Lord Wordsworth be sentenced to Azkaban, I will _do it!_ ”

“And the Ancient and Noble House of Calvin will help,” Lance growled, stepping up next to the Calvin Account Manager. He turned towards Auror Onasi. “Bind her again; I’m not ready to deal with her yet.”

“No, wait!” Skeeter cried. “I can tell you what I gave Lucius Malfoy.”

“I already know what you gave him,” Auror Onasi observed silkily. “You gave him Auror Wordsworth’s entire file… _including_ his home address in the Muggle world.” With that, the Auror cast the silencing spells again.

“He’s got Wordy’s home address?” Greg asked, alarm threading his voice.

“No, he doesn’t,” Auror Onasi countered quietly. “When I took over, I changed all your home addresses to ones that don’t exist…same as I did with my own Auror file after my wife died.” He grimaced. “That’s how Watson found them; he paid off a Junior Auror to sneak into the Auror files and find my home address.”

“Well, that’s _one_ good thing about paranoia,” Lou observed after a moment. “Thanks, Giles.” His attention turned to the goblin. “So, what can we do? Sounds to _me_ like Wordy getting the Headship was legal, only the Wizengamot won’t see it that way.”

“ _My_ plan’s sunk,” Lance grumbled, “My plan was basically to snow the Wizengamot into thinking Uncle Wordy’s a wizard.”

“A curious thing, honor,” Silnok mused to himself. His eyes sharpened. “I have received word from Britain; Lords Potter and Longbottom have managed to grant us two days of leeway to arrange a defense. However, they seem to have hit upon the same idea as young Heir Calvin; _that_ plan is unlikely to be acceptable to Lord Wordsworth.”

Team One traded looks, a bit unnerved to hear _Wordy_ being referred to as a _Lord_ ; he was still just Wordy to them. And, in that, the germ of an idea finally occurred to Sam. “Silnok,” he asked, thinking through his idea and poking it for holes. “Is there a law on the books against a Squib becoming a family Head?”

Silnok considered the question, his eyes flicking back and forth in thought. “There is not,” he replied at last. “Not here and not in Britain; such has never been needed because the ritual itself requires magic.”

“The Wizengamot oath requires magic, too,” Lance pointed out. “I’m guessing that Lord Malfoy wants to _prove_ that Uncle Wordy’s a Squib by daring him to take the Wizengamot oath.”

“You would be correct,” Silnok agreed. “Lord Malfoy’s plan to call the Wizengamot immediately after securing Lord Wordsworth worked against him; Lord Wordsworth’s exhaustion was such that Lord Longbottom successfully argued for two days’ grace.”

“Then we just have to find a way to get Wordy through the oath,” Jules remarked. “No need to say whether he’s a wizard or not, right?”

Lance grimaced. “The oath requires a wand; the ritual to take Headship doesn’t if you use a pentagram instead.”

“The ritual existed before modern wands did,” Silnok explained, “Thus it still takes the older ways of using magic into account.” A sigh. “A wand _demands_ a wizard; no Squib would be accepted by a wand.”

Silence fell; none of those present could think of a way for Wordy to get around the fact that he was not and never would be a wizard. “Jail break?” Spike joked feebly.

“We might have to,” Ed replied glumly. “I sure don’t want to see Wordy go to prison for the rest of his life.”

Sam bit his lip. “What if we proved that, even though Wordy’s a Squib, it wasn’t _illegal_ for him to take the Headship? Would _that_ help us?”

“Our agents at the Wizengamot report that nearly the entire court was united in outrage at the very _idea_ of a Squib taking Headship,” Silnok countered, his voice regretful. “Perhaps we are approaching this from the wrong direction. Instead of seeking to ‘prove’ that Lord Wordsworth is magical, perhaps our best strategy would be to reveal Lord Malfoy’s illegal actions to date.”

“Silnok, what exactly are Lords Potter and Longbottom planning to do?” Alanna asked.

“Their plan is twofold,” Silnok reported. “First, Lord Potter is hoping to seek out the phoenix who once accompanied Albus Dumbledore, in hopes that Fawkes would be amenable to appearing in public with Lord Wordsworth.” To the confused Team One, he added, “It is more of a public relations stunt than anything else; with Fawkes present, many of the Light families will be more disposed to think kindly of Lord Wordsworth regardless of the House of Lestrange’s reputation.”

“And secondly, they want to ‘prove’ he’s a wizard,” Ed concluded, receiving a brisk nod of agreement. “Which we already know Wordy won’t go for.”

Lance considered, his gaze thoughtful. “Okay, three part plan. First part, we reveal what Lord Malfoy and his pet reporter pulled on _this_ side of the ocean.” Auror Onasi smirked at that. “Second, let’s help Lord Potter with his phoenix hunt; ‘Lanna can do that.” Alanna swatted her brother’s arm, but did not look all that put out. “Last part and please hear me out. We’re gonna do our best, but the Wizengamot might still demand that Uncle Wordy take the oath. If that happens, then we _have_ to get him through that bloody oath. That means getting him a wand that will work for him _and_ getting his magical core to work long enough for him to do the oath.”

“But he’s a Squib,” Auror Onasi protested, “I know you said he did the Headship ritual, but how can he do the Wizengamot oath?”

“And without compromising who he is?” Jules questioned. “If he does the oath, won’t they assume he’s a wizard?”

“They won’t,” Lance replied, his voice soft. “Part three falls under the all or nothing category.” Mournful, angry, and determined, he looked at Silnok. “You’re going to send Lord Potter a letter on my behalf, telling him to admit, in his status as our family proxy, that Uncle Wordy’s a Squib. Then, _also_ as our family proxy, he’s going to demand, as a Goblin-friend, that Uncle Wordy take the Wizengamot oath as a _Wordsworth_ as part of Gringotts’ Judgment on the House of Lestrange.”

“All or nothing indeed,” Silnok rumbled. “You intend to invoke the Myrrdin Code.” To the rest of the room, he elaborated, “The Myrrdin Code was written by Lord Merlin Emrys himself during the reign of King Arthur. For centuries, it stood as the sole source of laws regarding the uses of magic. Even today, most magical laws can trace their roots to the Myrrdin Code. One of the Code’s lesser known laws was that _any_ being with magic was considered magical. It mattered not if they were hedgewizard or on the scale of Albus Dumbledore; under the Code, they _were_ magical.” A toothy goblin smile was bestowed on both Sam and Greg. “The two of you, for instance, would be considered magical under the Myrrdin Code.”

It took a moment for Greg to think through that. “So what you’re planning is to prove that Wordy’s magical under the Myrrdin Code, so he has a right to the House of Lestrange even though he can’t use his magic?”

“Essentially, yeah, that’s what we’re gonna try to do,” Lance agreed softly.

“Well if that doesn’t work, we can just go back to Plan B,” Spike quipped. When they all looked at him, he smirked. “Jail break.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, full credit to Alaia Skyhawk and her Merlin "A Question Of…" series for the Myrrdin Code. Also thanks to her for creating that, 'cause I had everything plotted out and then ran square into the fact that lying to the Wizengamot is something Wordy wouldn't do. Or, at least, I don't think he'd do it. Anyway, moving on.
> 
> For those of you on Fanfiction.net who love to leave guest reviews: I treasure each review regardless of whether it's signed or not. I enjoy replying to those reviewers who take the time to sign in and love to answer any questions...which brings me to the point. Please, if you're going to ask questions, _sign_ in. Otherwise I can't respond. Still, I shall make the effort.
> 
> To the guest reviewer who asked me why Greg referred to Harry as 'Lord Potter' and Ginny as 'Mrs. Potter' in "Quickest Way Back", well, _mea cupla_ , I made a mistake. I considered updating the story and removing the error...but I've decided against it. Instead, the in 'verse explanation is: Greg made a mistake and the Potters chose not to say anything. At least not right then and there.


	3. Plots and Volcanoes

With the skeleton of a plan hashed out, the team divided up into groups to tackle the individual parts of the plan. Lance and Silnok huddled in one corner, speaking quietly as they discussed the exact phrasing to use for their Hail Mary maneuver, as well as the logistics of trying to get a wand that would respond to Wordy. Greg, Ed, Sam, and Giles took another corner of the room, discussing the laws, both magical and tech, that had been broken by either Lord Malfoy, Rita Skeeter, or both. Slowly, the quartet drafted a comprehensive report to be submitted both to Madame Locksley _and_ the Wizengamot. Alanna crooked her finger at Lou, Spike, and Jules, guiding them to the one remaining corner; Skeeter was tucked in the furthest corner, her gaze resentful as she watched the activity she couldn’t hear.

“Whatcha got, munchkin?” Spike teased, earning a swat for the tease. Lou and Jules grinned at the tension breaker, but sobered quickly; the situation was too serious to be light-hearted for long.

“I need you to look up volcanoes,” Alanna replied.

“Volcanoes?” Lou questioned, a surprised look in his dark eyes.

“Volcanoes,” Alanna confirmed. “Phoenixes are fire birds, so a volcano is the perfect environment for them.” She considered. “Really, Fawkes could be anywhere, so we might succeed or not, but it’s worth a shot.”

Spike nodded understanding. “I’ll have to go grab my laptop,” he remarked, disappearing before his teammates or his ‘niece’ could reply.

Alanna frowned to herself. “Problem?” Jules asked.

“Maybe,” the teen admitted, looking up. “Uncle Wordy knows what my Animagus form looks like, but I _need_ to get in there with him. _If_ we can find Fawkes, I think I can get in, but Uncle Wordy might react to seeing me there.”

“So you need a disguise for your Animagus form,” Jules concluded thoughtfully. “Something that doesn’t hide the fact that you’re a phoenix, but _does_ hide your usual colors?”

“Something like that,” Alanna agreed. “Glamour charms won’t work once I shift to Flamewings, so they’re out; even if they did stick, they don’t last all that long anyway.”

“Oh, I have an idea or two,” Jules remarked. “Looks like you three will have to volcano hunt without me…I’ll handle the disguise part.”

“Go, Jules,” Lou acknowledged. “We’ll hold down the fort.”

Jules nodded and left, sliding past Spike, who gave Lou a head tilt. “Come on, Spike; Jules is gonna handle something else,” Lou explained.

“Got it,” Spike chirped, bringing his laptop in and starting it up. “Okay, volcanoes coming right up.”

“Let’s start with North America,” Alanna mused. “If we find Fawkes, I can come back for the disguise, but we need to get started now and searching North America first will be a _lot_ easier on me.”

Spike’s hands flew on the keyboard. “Got it. Might as well start with the two most active: Mount St. Helens and Lassen. Can you use GPS coordinates or do we need to get Giles over here?”

“I can use GPS,” Alanna reassured the tech, leaning over to see the coordinates Spike brought up. She nodded, stepped back, and _blurred_ ; a phoenix trilled a few notes before vanishing in a ball of fire.

* * * * *

Greg mostly stayed out of the discussion; Sam, Ed, and Giles were having no trouble coming up with laws that Lord Malfoy and Miss Skeeter had broken without any help from him. Instead, the Sergeant was seriously considering what _he_ should do. His team _depended_ on him to react calmly and rationally, regardless of the provocation or the circumstances, and he hadn’t done that. Exhaustion, instant jealously, even shock…he could come up with a dozen explanations and reasons for not backing his teammate, but they all felt weak, inadequate, little more than excuses. Greg looked down at his black binder and the false starts written down in it; his written apology to Wordy for not being the boss Wordy expected him to be.

Ed leaned over, his expression concerned. “Everything okay, Boss?”

When Greg flinched, just a bit, the team leader’s eyes narrowed and he snatched his boss’s binder away, ignoring Greg’s indignant, “Hey!”

“What is this?” Ed demanded as soon as he got a good look. “The Greg Parker guilt trip for screwing up and being human?” Sam and Giles fell silent as the team leader glared at his Sergeant. “Newsflash, Boss; we _all_ screwed this one up.”

“I’m the team Sergeant, Ed,” Greg argued back.

Ed’s expression wasn’t impressed. “Boss, we’d just been through three days in one, not to mention what _I’d_ call one of my worst nightmares; none of us were at our best, Wordy _included_.” He leaned forward, his gaze intent. “I need to parrot one of _your_ phrases back at you, Greg? Don’t answer that, you already did.” The team leader shook his head at his Sergeant’s guilty expression. “ ‘Scared to make mistakes-- it’s going to get in your way. We’re human. We’re going to get things wrong.’ Your _exact_ words, Boss, so, what, that’s true of everyone except you? Come on, if _I_ found out a member of my team was more closely related to Clark than I was, I’d hit the roof. Those two might not be _your_ kids, but they’re as good as.”

“It’s my _job_ to have your backs, Eddie, and I didn’t have his.” Doubt and uncertainty jabbed at him like tiny needles, refusing to let up.

“Sarge, stop it,” Sam ordered, drawing both men’s attention to him. “Ed’s right; we _all_ messed this one up. Let’s get him back, then we can all do the groveling we want and he can whack us over the head for being so stupid.”

Greg forced a smile he didn’t feel at the quip. He wasn’t pleased when Ed ripped out the page he’d been writing on before handing the black binder back, but knew better than to say anything. “Okay,” he gave in. “What have we got?”

Giles smirked. “Animagus laws are a no-brainer, but I _really_ hope Lance wasn’t kidding about them being registered, ‘cause Skeeter’s right, the unregistered Animagus thing can go both ways.”

A thoughtful frown met Giles’ statement. “I wasn’t aware they needed to be registered,” Greg admitted, “But from what I understand, the Animagus forms run in the family, so they may well _be_ registered in Britain.”

“Familial Animagus forms?” Giles echoed. “I’ve never heard of that, but okay, I can go with it.” He consulted his notes. “Skeeter tricked her way into the public records archive; I had a word with Daniels and confirmed that much. The public records archive is separate from Auror records, but the two rooms are close enough that she could have used her Animagus form to sneak in, no problem.”

The Sergeant inclined his head. “Is that Skeeter alone or can Lord Malfoy be charged with receiving confidential Auror files?”

“He can,” Giles confirmed. “In this particular situation, the laws are almost identical; we have a few extra laws dealing with magical breaches of Auror files, but otherwise both worlds have the same laws. It’s a serious crime to steal information from an Auror’s file because of the sensitive nature of that information.” His eyes were shadowed, with the shades of his lost family hovering over him.

“Which leaves the arrest,” Sam chipped in. “It happened on _our_ side of the fence, Boss, so technically, they also breached the Statute of Secrecy when they arrested Wordy.”

“Not to mention every last law concerning jurisdiction on the books,” Ed grumbled.

“One question though,” Greg put in thoughtfully. “ _Was_ Lord Malfoy correct about Wordy’s status? _Is_ he a British citizen?”

Giles shook his head. “One second,” he requested, heading for the doorway. He came back with several thick volumes. “I made Daniels do some research on the subject; _believe_ me, that’s just the beginning of what he’s going to have to do for the next few _months_.”

The books were thumped down on the table and a sheaf of parchment littered with notes was pulled off the top. “Here we go,” Giles muttered to himself, reading over the notes. A minute and several pages in, he started nodding to himself, a thoughtful expression crossing his face as he continued to read. “Well, Daniels might have redeemed himself a bit with this.” The Auror looked up at his three fellow Aurors. “According to what he found, Wordy _is_ a Canadian citizen. First off, his birth certificate lists his father…well, his adoptive father…”

“They didn’t know, did they?” Ed breathed.

A shrug. “Likely not,” Giles agreed quietly. “So, since his parents vis-á-vis his birth certificate are both Canadian citizens, so is he. Lord Lestrange would have had to formally accept Wordy as his son for Wordy to get British citizenship…”

“Yeah, he wasn’t gonna do that,” Sam drawled, leaning back in his chair. “ ‘Specially after he went to the trouble of making sure Wordy couldn’t be a wizard.”

Giles cast Sam an annoyed look for interrupting him. “ _Anyway_ ,” he announced, reclaiming the group’s attention, “By the time Wordy found out that his father wasn’t his father, the time to change his Canadian citizenship to a British citizenship was long, long past. Legally speaking, he _is_ Kevin Wordsworth…magically speaking is a different story, but if he went through a name change ritual, then, both legally and magically, he’s Kevin Wordsworth.”

“And that rot about Kevin ‘Lestrange’?” Ed questioned.

A smirk. “You said it; it’s rot, worth no more than tissue paper. A public relations stunt. Even if that louse didn’t know about the rape part, he _has_ to know that Wordy’s still a Canadian citizen, no matter _who_ his father turned out to be.”

“If he didn’t know, that Auror should have,” Greg pointed out, earning a nod.

“Yeah, it’s obscure, but if you intend to arrest a foreign citizen on their home soil, then you should do your homework first,” Giles observed, an angry glint in his eyes. “Forget the Wizengamot; we’ve got enough for the Canadian Ministry of Magic to lodge a formal protest against the British Ministry of Magic with the ICW **(4)**.”

“And how would going to the ICW help Wordy?” the SRU Sergeant questioned, earning a deflation from his Auror liaison.

Giles sighed, his shoulders visibly slumping. “They might react even worse than the Wizengamot to the idea of a Squib Head of House and a group of Muggle/Squib Aurors. The whole _point_ of the ICW is to keep the tech world from finding out about magic.” He ran a hand through his hair, inadvertently messing up the two dangling locks of hair over his forehead; unconsciously, he fixed them as he continued, “After what we saw, what we went through, I get why the ICW is so intent on keeping the Statute, but I don’t think they’re giving you lot enough credit.” The Auror tilted his head, a wry grin crossing his face. “You got tossed into the deep end of the magical world and you’re still here.”

“Yeah, but maybe not for much longer if we can’t get Wordy out of this mess,” Ed rumbled. “So let’s get this done.”

The four men put their heads together; Giles writing the report on a fresh sheaf of parchment and the three SRU officers using their negotiating skills and knowledge of psychology to best advantage.

* * * * *

A fireball reappeared in the room and the violet phoenix trilled a mournful note as she settled on the back of Spike’s chair. “Nothing, huh?” Lou asked.

Flamewings shook her head.

“You went to both?” Spike questioned, already clicking away at his laptop.

An affirmative trill.

“Okay,” Lou acknowledged, leaning over his best friend’s shoulder. “Let’s try these two next,” he suggested, pointing at two names on the list.

“As good as any,” Spike agreed, bringing up the coordinates. “Mount Pavlof and Colima.”

The phoenix craned her head to see the GPS coordinates and trilled her own agreement. Then she lifted off and vanished in another ball of fire.

* * * * *

“If you invoke the Myrrdin Code, it will destroy much of your family’s political power,” Silnok rumbled. “Those of the ‘Dark’ will consider you hopelessly backward for clinging to the age of Camelot, when magic and technology lived side by side, while the ‘Light’ will see you as Dark for harkening back to the time of Morgana Le Fay and her ilk.”

“It’s a sad day when doing the right thing is considered political suicide,” Lance replied bluntly. “We’ve _all_ forgotten our past, Silnok. How many wizards today remember that King Arthur wasn’t magical, that the Knights of the Round Table weren’t magical, and that Merlin Emrys spent _years_ as King Arthur’s manservant?”

“Precious few, Heir Calvin,” Silnok admitted. “Even among my own kind, such is true.”

“Exactly,” Lance countered, his gaze fierce. “My family’s political power against a man’s life? Not even a contest there. It’s time, Silnok. It’s time our people stopped cowering under their beds as if the tech world is going to destroy them at any moment. It’s time that the various Dark Lords and Ladies were stopped by more than just the blood of innocents and school children; we’ve _forgotten_ the best parts of ourselves because we’re _afraid_ , afraid of our world’s destruction, afraid of change.” He was silent for almost a minute. “My parents died because the magical world is afraid to move forward, afraid to leave their corrupt past behind.”

“That, Heir Calvin, is far truer than you know,” Silnok murmured. The goblin’s shoulders straightened. “Very well, then, Heir Calvin. I will see it done; we will invoke the Myrrdin Code, no matter the cost.” Respect shone in the old goblin’s eyes and he offered the young Wild Mage in front of him a deeper bow than any goblin had given a wizard in centuries.

 

[4] International Confederation of Wizards


	4. Wands and Squibs

By Spike and Lou, a fireball appeared, a violet phoenix emerging with a mournful trill. Both men grimaced, well aware of what _that_ meant. “No luck,” Lou translated.

“Bringing up the next two,” Spike called, though a smidge of frustration broke through in his voice. “Mount Rainier and Glacier Peak.”

The phoenix craned her neck, inspecting the coordinates, then she lifted off once more and vanished in a fireball.

* * * * *

The four men, done with their report, stood around Rita Skeeter, their faces grim and closed as Giles Onasi undid the silencing spells. When she could hear again, Giles began. “Miss Skeeter,” he said, his voice formal, “I have here all the evidence I need that you violated the terms of your diplomatic visa by breaking not only the laws of Canada, but also the International Statute of Secrecy.”

“And when,” Skeeter bristled, “Did I break the Statute of Secrecy?”

The Auror above her smirked and opened the folder in his hands, pulling out a series of snapshots. “I understand you’re unfamiliar with the Muggle world, just as most wizards and witches are, but really, Miss Skeeter, if you’re going to use your _illegal_ Animagus form in the Muggle world, you should know better than to transform into said form only meters from a Muggle security camera.”

So saying, he tossed the pictures into Skeeter’s lap; she picked them up to see herself, shifting to her beetle Animagus form; one picture after the other showed her transformation in _far_ more detail than she would have preferred to _ever_ see…in _Muggle_ pictures. Her mouth worked soundlessly as she gaped at the images and looked up.

“I had my bomb tech pull the video from our security system, so, fortunately for you, there’s no risk of anyone who doesn’t know about magic seeing those images,” Sergeant Parker observed calmly, though his eyes glinted with anger. “Still, Miss Skeeter, I imagine you’ll have to face punishment for your decision to use your Animagus form in the middle of the _Police_ Strategic Response Unit’s Headquarters.”

Parker’s gaze hardened. “And for your role in exposing a member of my team to the likes of Lord Malfoy. If Lord Malfoy’s knowledge of Constable Wordsworth’s home address leads to his family getting hurt…well, I’m sure you can figure out where that would lead.”

Rita Skeeter swallowed hard. Even when she’d been cornered by the Granger chit, she’d had a way out, but _none_ of these people seemed inclined to give her so much as an inch. “And what is it that you want?” she demanded, though her voice was thin and reedy.

The stocky man’s eyes darkened even further and he bent over, leaning in close to her, so close that she cringed back a bit. “How much is a life worth?” he asked her, so soft that she didn’t think anyone else had heard him. He shifted back, with no give whatsoever in his expression. “You’ve spent your _life_ bringing other people down, destroying lives with no thought to the people you’ve hurt with your stories. Not this time; _my_ constable is _not_ going to end up as your latest trophy, Miss Skeeter. I don’t want anything from you, Miss Skeeter; I much prefer justice.”

“But…but…” Rita stammered. “I’ll never hold a job again…I’ll be _ruined_ …”

And still, they offered her no sympathy. “That was _your_ choice, ma’am,” the bald one snapped.

“Actions have consequences,” the blond agreed.

Auror Onasi’s smile was brittle. “We’ll be taking you back to England later today, Miss Skeeter. _You’re_ going to be Exhibit A of why the Wizengamot shouldn’t give that Death Eater in their midst the time of day.”

“Please, I’ll do anything,” she begged.

“Too late for that,” the blond growled, turning his back on her. His teammates followed, leaving her alone with the angry Auror.

He crouched, wand out and his eyes so hard that she was shocked she couldn’t see her reflection in them. “Here’s your one sound bite, Skeeter. He helped save our _world_ and _this_ is how we thank him? Makes me wonder if saving our world was _worth_ it after all.”

* * * * *

The phoenix reappeared just as Jules returned, a shopping bag in her hand. The phoenix’s trill was clearly triumphant and she _blurred_ an instant later. “Found him,” Alanna reported.

“All right, ‘Lanna!” Spike cheered, with Lou grinning just a widely over his shoulder.

“Now, let’s see if my idea works,” Jules put in, pulling several boxes of bleach and dye out of her shopping bag.

“Hair dye?” Lou questioned, peering at the dye boxes, which all featured a very blonde woman smiling and holding a lock of her hair out for the camera to see.

“Hair dye,” Jules confirmed. “I don’t know if it will work or not, but it’s worth a shot. We’ll need to borrow the bathroom here though; this stuff needs a sink.”

Giles wandered over, eyeing the boxes with curiosity. “I can show you,” he offered.

“Great,” Jules agreed, waving to Alanna. “The faster we get this done, the faster we can get back to helping Wordy.”

* * * * *

“And what of a wand, Heir Calvin?” Silnok rumbled. “Most wands prefer to bond with full wizards, as you well know. Even if this gambit should work, Lord Wordsworth will require a wand to take the oath.”

Lance nodded; he’d been thinking that over ever since he’d come up with his original plan. “I know,” he acknowledged. “And it’s rather simple, actually.” The young man flicked his wrist, letting his own wand drop into his hand. “We’re going to give him mine.”

“Yours?” Silnok’s eyes widened in shock. “You would _voluntarily_ disarm yourself for his sake? Deny yourself the right to your wand?”

“Yes, I would,” Lance replied, his gaze and voice firm. “I’m not disarmed, Silnok; I still have full use of the Old Magic.” He placed the wand on the desk between them. “It’s always worked, Silnok, but I’m not sure it’s ever _really_ been mine; Dad got more results out of his wand than I ever have with mine.”

“You are young yet, Heir Calvin,” Silnok pointed out.

A nod of acknowledgement. “I know; I know I don’t have his experience, I don’t have the years he spent learning to wield his wand…not yet anyway. But I do know this…” The boy touched the wand in front of him lightly. “Mr. Ollivander had to go through almost every wand in his shop to find me a match…same with ‘Lanna…and even _then_ , he only charged Dad half-price for both our wands ‘cause they weren’t a perfect match.” Silnok inhaled sharply; he hadn’t been aware of that. “So this wand…it works, but it doesn’t. If it works for Uncle Wordy, then I’ve gotten that much out of it.” A sad smile. “Maybe, in another world, it _could_ have been his.”

“Indeed,” Silnok replied, unable to think of any other response.

* * * * *

Skeeter scowled to herself as she watched the activity before her. Well, she _wouldn’t_ be going down alone, _that_ was for sure. Mentally, she plotted out the _best_ time to reveal that the two little _brats_ were Animagi as well; she’d show _all_ of them why crossing _her_ was most unwise.

After all, _she_ hadn’t done anything wrong…if _anything_ it was that _Squib_ who’d started all of this, by claiming a family he had _no_ right to claim. She had _only_ been doing her job, investigating what the rich and the powerful didn’t _want_ investigated. And Lord Malfoy’s support of her investigation…well, that was just her due, after so many years of being shunned and spurred for blackening the reputations of the Great Albus Dumbledore and ‘The-Boy-Who-Lived-To-Defeat-Voldemort.’ Even her exposé on Severus Snape had been ill-received and shunned by the very people who should have _rushed_ to purchase her latest offering.

And so, Rita Skeeter sat in her corner and sulked, feeling very ill-used and abused indeed. The idea that _she_ had been completely and thoroughly in the wrong for giving an innocent family’s home address to a former Death Eater never once occurred to her. And Parker’s whispered question and pointed observations were, after a _very_ brief consideration, dismissed and ignored just as Skeeter had ignored many such observations in the past.

* * * * *

Jules smiled to herself as she guided the teenager back into the conference room; just in case transforming reduced the life of the hair dye, Alanna hadn’t shifted form, but Jules was very hopeful that her idea had worked. Formerly red hair was now a platinum blonde hue; Jules had even bleached and dyed Alanna’s eyebrows to cover all the bases. Alanna snagged a free lock and pulled it into her line of sight. “I feel odd,” she admitted.

“Once this is over, I’ll try and get as much of the dye out as I can,” Jules reassured the girl. “It might take awhile, but you’ll get your original color back.” They entered the room and immediately attracted attention as Team One gaped at Alanna’s transformation. Giles even opened his mouth to shoo the mystery girl out before his brain caught up and he realized it was Alanna and Jules. Lance let out a low whistle as Silnok let out a gravely chuckle of his own.

“Well?” Alanna asked uncertainly.

“Does it work?” Lance questioned, arching one brow.

Alanna immediately stuck her tongue out at Lance and took two steps forward before she _blurred_. Flamewings settled on the back of a chair, spreading both wings and trilling in inquiry. It was Jules’ turn to whistle as she took in the differences. Instead of two shades of violet, the phoenix was now blonde in the darker areas and platinum blonde in the lighter areas. If she hadn’t known it was Alanna, she would never have guessed.

“It works,” Lou remarked, leaning closer to get a better look. “Jules, you got a camera handy?”

“Yeah, actually,” Jules agreed, going over to her bags and pulling it out. She snapped a few shots and nodded to herself. To Flamewings, she said, “Okay, since we’re not sure how the dye will hold up, you’d better not change back.”

The phoenix trilled and inclined her head in acknowledgement. She looked to her brother, piping a question.

“I’ll handle everything on this end, ‘Lanna. You just get Fawkes to help, got it?”

A fierce trill and the blonde phoenix lifted off the chair before vanishing in a final fireball.

All eyes turned to the young man, who pulled in a breath and held it for a few seconds. “Okay, I think we’re ready. Next stop: London.”

“Great,” Spike whispered to himself. “International Portkeys.” The rest of his team looked _just_ as enthused at the prospect.


	5. First Divide

The good news was: they were home and they still had their teammate.  Wordy _seemed_ to have come through his misadventure with nary a scratch, whether physical or emotional.  Unfortunately, therein lay the bad news…he _seemed_ to have come through just fine, but Greg suspected it was rather the opposite.  Between the shock of having his dark family secret thrust out in front of his team and said team’s horrible first reaction, Greg’s private suspicion was that Wordy’s faith in his teammates and his Sergeant had been shaken to its core.

It hadn’t helped that Team One’s role had been restricted to support, rather than ‘storming’ merry old England and taking their friend and teammate back.  The SRU Sergeant sighed to himself as he settled in his chair, thinking hard about his next move with his constable.  The formal apology…which he’d never gotten written _anyway_ thanks to Ed’s interference…was more likely to hurt Wordy than heal the damage.  Sam’s suggestion of groveling had its merits, but Greg was afraid it would embarrass Wordy and it _still_ wouldn’t deal with what the Sergeant saw as the main issue.

As Parker saw it, the main issue was that Team One had, plain and simple, failed miserably.  They’d failed to back Wordy up when he’d needed that backup, they’d failed to support him as he was illegally dragged off to be tried in a foreign court, on charges that essentially boiled down to who his parents had been, and, as far as Wordy was concerned, they hadn’t made any efforts to _correct_ their initial lack, leaving it to their magical counterparts and the kids to fix the mess.

“Aren’t you going to go to bed?”

Greg craned around to meet his nephew’s worried expression.  “In a bit, kiddo.”

But Lance was not so easily shooed off.  “It’s about Uncle Wordy, isn’t it?”

Greg sighed and resigned himself to the late night talk.  “Yes,” he replied simply.

“We got him back,” Lance pointed out, cocking his head to the side in an unspoken, _so what’s the problem?_

“Yeah, we got him back,” Greg agreed quietly, “But we also let him down and we’re… _I’m_ …not supposed to do that.”  At his nephew’s even more confused look, he elaborated, “Look, Wordy trusts me to have his back out there, no matter what happens.  Can he still trust me when I _didn’t_ have his back, right when he really _needed_ me to have his back?”

The answer should have been obvious; it was obvious to Greg, but he must have said it wrong, because Lance considered a few seconds and looked up.  “Yes, he can,” the teenager informed his uncle.  At Greg’s shocked look, Lance tilted his head.  “You messed up.”  No argument there.  “But you regret it.  Maybe Uncle Wordy doesn’t know that yet, but you’ve been teammates for _years_.  If ‘Lanna screwed up, I’d still trust her ‘cause she’s my sister and I know how she usually acts.  Same thing here; Uncle Wordy _knows_ you, he knows you have his back, no matter what.”

“It’s not quite that simple,” Greg argued.  “We hurt him; I could see it in his eyes.”

The teenager regarded his uncle, a hint of frustration in his expression that Greg wasn’t getting what he was saying.  After a minute, he finally spoke again.  “Okay, let’s say you’re right.  Let’s say Uncle Wordy doesn’t trust any of you anymore.”  A challenging look entered the young man’s eyes.  “So, whatcha gonna do about it?”

“I don’t know,” Greg admitted quietly.

A noise of pure exasperation escaped the teen and he threw his hands up.  “You’re just going to give up?”

“No!”

A satisfied nod.  “Didn’t think so.”  A pause, as Lance considered his next words.  “You can fix this, Uncle Greg.  If he doesn’t trust you anymore, you just keep trying, just keep putting the pieces back together.  It won’t be what it was before, but that’s okay.”  Greg blinked, caught off guard by that particular statement.  Lance smiled sadly.  “Nothing is ever the same after it’s broken, Uncle Greg.  But you can take the shards of what was broken and put them back together to make something new, something even _better_ and stronger than the old.”

Greg swallowed hard at the thought of trying to rebuild a shattered trust, a shattered friendship.  Without thinking, he asked, “But how would I even start?”

Lance’s smile turned impish.  “You _could_ try talking to him, instead of sitting here assuming.”  With that, the teen turned and headed back to bed.  At the doorway, he paused and turned.  “I don’t think it’s as bad as you think, Uncle Greg.  Night.”

“Night,” Greg murmured, thinking hard.

* * * * *

Greg waited in the locker room alone; he’d relayed a message to the rest of his team to come in a bit later than they usually did.  He watched as Wordy entered, a wary look in his eyes that was quickly hidden when he saw his boss.  “Sarge?”

A soft sigh and Greg got the first words out with an effort.  “Wordy, I’m sorry I didn’t have your back that night.”

Wordy reared back, startled.  “It’s okay, Sarge,” he replied with a tiny smile.

Greg shook his head.  “No, it’s not okay, Wordy.  You trust me to have your back and that night, I screwed up.”  He studied the other man an instant, noticing another flash of that wary expression.  “I can’t change what I didn’t do,” the Sergeant admitted quietly, “But I’m going to do my best to keep from letting you down again.”  His own smile was transparently weak.  “Can’t exactly promise I won’t ever do it again.”

The constable blinked, considering his Sergeant’s words.  “It hurt,” he confessed, his eyes finally showing that pain, still there, still festering.  “It felt like you guys abandoned me.”  A breath, then, “Are you mad at me?”

“For what, Wordy?”

A helpless shrug.  “For being more closely related to the kids than you are.”

If Greg hadn’t expected this _exact_ topic to come up, he might have frozen, but he had and so he’d prepared, as best he could.  “Part of me is,” he began, watching as the dawning hope in Wordy’s eyes winked out.  “But another part of me is grateful.”  Wordy froze in shock.  “If anything happens to me, the kids are even more vulnerable than they were the night their parents died.”  Greg drew in a breath of his own, held it.  “Wordy, if anything _does_ happen to me, would you take them in?”

“Sarge, I…”  Wordy looked completely poleaxed, shocked right down to the bone.  “I…are you _sure_?”

Greg moved over to his constable, judging him carefully and only laying a hand on Wordy’s shoulder when the other man’s eyes showed tentative acceptance.  “I can’t think of anyone better, Kevin _Wordsworth_.”  He smiled, a bit better than he had before.  “So?”

Wordy’s grin was so small that if Greg had blinked, he’d have missed it.  “Yeah, Sarge.”  Then he punched his boss’s shoulder, very lightly.  “But you’d _better_ not die on us, Sarge.  You don’t have permission.”

Greg thumped Wordy’s shoulder right back.  “Neither do you, Constable Wordsworth.”

The two men traded tentative hopeful looks, both well aware that it was only a start.  Unity was still fractured, was still weak, but they’d _both_ put the first pieces back together, rebuilding what was broken.  But there was one last question that just _had_ to be answered.

“Hey, Sarge?”

“Yes, Wordy?”

“Does all of this mean _we’re_ related?”

 

_~ Fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end. For this story anyway. We now return to our regularly scheduled main storyline, kicking off "The Gryphon in the Airport" on August 21st, 2018. Keep your eyes peeled for a few minor _Flashpoint_ characters...cyber cookies to anyone who recognizes them.
> 
> I am also asking for prayer for my paternal aunt and uncle. On Wednesday, I found out that their daughter was found dead in her apartment; she'd been gone for at least a week by the time she was found. Very heartbreaking, even though my cousin was much older than me and we barely talked (or emailed).
> 
> Thank you all for your prayers and support; I wish each and every one of you a great weekend.

**Author's Note:**

> As I'm sure you can all tell by now, this story is the 'other side' if you will of "East of the Sun". No spoilers, but I _meant_ to make it look like Team One had done _nada_ to help their teammate...though I'm sure more than a few eagle-eyed readers caught several hints and clues to the _real_ story going on in the background. Here also is the rant some of my reviewers and commenters were hoping for in "East of the Sun". We're just gettin' warmed up, so hang tight, even if you do already know the ending.
> 
> Also, insert rant about Fanfiction.net being so ornery about anything that hints at a URL and also a rant at Word for somehow adding something called a 'character style' to everything after my first footnote. Ugh...you would not _believe_ how much time it took to _fix_ the fact that when I put this up in the Doc Manager, half the gosh-darn chapter ended up in italics! I finally had to lift my chapter into a new Word doc (where the problem, which did _not_ appear in my master document, promptly showed itself), remove the 'character style' from _that_ document and redo all my italics! By which I mean that stripping out the so-called character style removed all my careful formatting and my emphasis on the correct sy-lla-ble. *sigh* That joke didn't translate into text all that well...
> 
> At any rate...ugh...I pray I _never_ find that issue in _any_ of my other chapters again... _ever_. I don't have the _foggiest_ why Microsoft came up with these...character styles...but I _hate_ 'em. Useless things that ruin all my careful work and offer no real benefit...I'm just lucky it was only _one_ chapter (I checked Chapter Two for a similar issue, thankfully found none).


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